One Last Love Song
by SassyJ
Summary: AU Zain and Stuart are sent undercover as gay arms dealer Avram Yanis and his lover Jack Reece, both recently killed in a car crash. Other forces are at work and they find their lives in danger.
1. Chapter 1

He sat at the table, quietly waiting, his cuffed wrists on the table in front of him. He knew Ross had left the cuffs on in an attempt at intimidation. He was past intimidation, these kinds of cheap tricks. He was fighting for his existence now, and his partner's existence. _If he makes it..._

His arm and side ached. He felt light-headed and dizzy, but Ross had decided that he was up to answering questions. Presumably Ross hoped he would be vulnerable and easy to beat down. Well, _that_ wasn't going to happen. They had been left out there in harm's way. The moment he'd laid eyes on her, he knew the answer to the riddle: they were expendable.

He'd survived his first encounter with Kirsten Shaw, both personally and professionally, by the skin of his teeth. He'd come back to the team, had somehow weathered the storm of resentment, had brought himself back from the brink. He was just starting to regain his old life when DCI Adrian Ross had walked into the station.

Ross had had a plan, an undercover job. Arms dealer Avram Yanis and his lover, Jack Reece, had been killed in a car crash. Zain bore a passing resemblance to Yanis, and DS Stuart Turner was the same height, build and colouring as Jack Reece. Neither of them had really wanted the job, but they were put in a position where it was almost impossible to say no.

Zain shifted on the chair. The cuffs were bothering him now. The bullet which had creased his upper arm had dug a furrow in his flesh. Beneath the dressing, he could feel every inch of the gash. He needed to flex his arm, move it to a different position. His side was throbbing where the second bullet had deflected across his ribs, its force spent..._after ploughing through Stu's body._

Zain closed his eyes. It had all happened so fast. _The door opened, Stu rolling to protect Zain with his body. The first bullet punched high, taking him in the back by his shoulder blade; the second hit slightly lower, punching through Stu's body beneath his arm, wrapped tight around Zain. It was that second which had creased Zain's ribs, but he didn't care about that. Stu's blood was flowing over Zain's hands; the pounding of feet sounded on the stairs as the gunman fired for the last time. Shouting and noise all around them. Zain, unable to make any of it out, concentrated on stemming the bleeding, stopping Stu's lifeforce from ebbing away._

_They were naked beneath the worn greyish sheet, tangled loosely around their bodies. Stu had acted to save Zain's life; Zain was not going to lose him now. What had started out as an assignment had become intensely personal and real._

They had been separated at the hospital, Stu taken to where Zain was not allowed to follow. Zain had been patched up quickly, then dragged away at Ross's command.

This was the Shaw case all over again. But this time, Zain had something to fight for. Something unanticipated, but as necessary to Zain as breathing. And he had something to fight _with_: the knowledge that he and Stu had been set up.

He concentrated his anger, clamping down on the pain from his arm and side, remembering the day they'd been handed the assignment. Going undercover as a gay couple, everything was guesswork, the files on Avram Yanis and Jack Reece almost non-existent. _Deliberately so?_

Eight days. That was all they had before their little drama came crashing down around them. It hadn't felt right from the start, their parts were set, and they played their roles carefully, feeling their way.

_The weird part was the physical closeness they had to assume to keep their covers going. They had no back up so they had to rely on each other._

Zain closed his eyes, remembering. His first thoughts when he heard he was going undercover with Stuart, that his glory-boy sergeant would step aside and let Zain dangle.

It hadn't happened like that. If anything Stuart had sought to protect him. Zain wasn't used to that, especially coming from Stuart Turner.

They were alone. Flying blind in a situation which became more hazardous every day, yet when they had expressed their concerns, they were both told they were imagining it.

"_Hello, Zain." He'd frozen to the spot. Just caught himself in time, to spin round and show surprise would be bad, there was a chance in a million he could tough it out. He turned slowly to face her, aware that Stu had stepped across, inserting himself between Zain and Kirsten Shaw. The woman who had so nearly destroyed Zain's life before._

_Only now Zain and Stuart were both at risk. In a flash of insight, Zain realised that they had been set up. That this was what was supposed happen._

_Too late. They were staring down the barrel of a gun. Stripped of anything that might be useful they were shoved into the tiny attic room, with its miniature skylight and locked in._

_Kirsten and her dealers would take care of business and then Zain and Stu would die. They knew that. Zain had turned to his partner defeated._

"_They're going to kill us."_

"_I know." _

"_I'm... sorry."_

"_Sorry? Why?"_

_Zain made a confused gesture. "This." His hand brushed Stu's – accident or something else? He didn't know. Their eyes met, that electric touch as their fingers brushed, entwined, and suddenly they were in each other's arms._

"_I'm not." Stu's whisper slid across Zain's senses, teasing._

"_Not what..." Zain's whisper more of a gasp as Stu's teeth nipped his lower lip._

"_Sorry" Stu breathed._

_One narrow mattress and a couple of grey sheets. Not much for their last night of life. They were going to die, hope of rescue was mostly futile, whatever this was, it was going to end in the morning._

_By mutual assent they came together. Words were redundant, they melted into each other, pulling their clothes off. Skin to skin, they felt alive._

_Alive_. Zain bent over the table in the interview room, fighting the pain, holding his distress inside. He had to fight for both of them now, _Kirsten Shaw was not going to destroy his life a second time._

The door opened, and Zain looked up. Banking the pain down, he summoned his anger.

"DC Nadir..." Ross managed to make it sound like an insult. "We have so much to talk about."


	2. Chapter 2

Zain walked the corridor, hardly believing that Ross had finally let him go. Ross had been alternately aggressive and sly, offering Zain endless loopholes to dart through, trying to trap him into admissions of guilt.

Zain stuck vehemently to his guns. He was not going to lose this time. Kirsten Shaw meant nothing to him personally, she had nearly destroyed him once. And Ross had known that. Zain sensed that he was winning as Ross grew increasingly wilder and more desperate to break Zain's story.

This time was different, Zain was fighting back.

As Jack Meadows opened the door and quietly took a seat next to Ross, Zain knew that it was over.

If Ross would let it be.

Now he was on his way back to Stu's side, praying that it would be all right. He knew Jo was with Stuart. She had stayed, and Zain was grateful for that. He had to believe that Stuart would wake up, and he didn't want him to be alone when he did.

He reached the door that the nurse had indicated. Suddenly he was nervous. What if Stu didn't want to see him? He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit. Jo, sitting in the visitor's chair, turned as he entered quietly. "He's been asking for you," she told him, getting to her feet. "God, you look terrible!"

Zain grinned slightly and hunched his shoulder, uncertain how to respond. He wasn't used to enquiries after his health. "I'm fine. How is _he_?" He gazed down at his sleeping partner.

"Very weak, tired and sore, but still with us." Jo pulled out her chair. "Now, Zain, you _are_ going to sit down before you fall down. And I'm going to find a nurse to check you out."

Zain opened his mouth to disagree.

"Stu needs you." Jo's hand on his back gently pushed him into the chair. "For his sake, Zain. Please?"

Zain sat.

_For Stu..._ Even if he didn't feel the way he did about Stu, he owed his sergeant more than one. And true, he had been feeling light-headed and slightly sick since he had been dragged out of the hospital the first time. Though he had been feeling worse for a couple of hours now, at least he was back, he'd made it. Now it was all for Stu. He leaned forward and gently took hold of Stuart's hand. "I'm here, Stu," he whispered.

For a moment there was no response, then the dark lashes flickered a little. "Stu?" Zain leaned in closer. A pinprick glimpse of brown eyes, and the ghost of a tired smile.

"You... made it." Scarcely above a whisper.

A lump formed in Zain's throat, Stu had risked his life to save Zain's. "We made it, thanks to you."

Stu's fingers gripped Zain's hand. His eyes closed again and he settled with a little sigh. Zain carefully interlaced his fingers with Stu's and eased himself more carefully in the chair trying to get comfortable. Now that it was over and Stu was out of immediate danger, Zain could give in to his own discomfort. But he wasn't leaving Stu's side.

He was hurting, his arm and side throbbing. The pain was just about at bay, but it wouldn't take much for it to become overwhelming.

Stu's fingers squeezed his. The slight pressure and the silent understanding was very nearly Zain's undoing.

The lump in his throat was threatening to strangle him, when Jo returned with a nurse.

The next half-hour passed in a blur, as Zain gave in and let them do their work. At last, it was all hurting far too much.

The nurse checked him out, summoned a doctor who examined his arm, porters delivered a trolley, and in short order Zain found himself coaxed out of his clothes. He was helped into a hospital gown. He wanted to protest that he was fine, that Stu needed them far more than he did, but Jo was holding his good hand and talking to him in a low voice. Gentle, soothing words that didn't make a lot of sense to him, he was so tired.

He needed to get up, he needed to sit with Stu. He tried to move, and Jo's hand pushed him back down onto the pillows. "Zain, let them take care of you." Jo's words were soft and soothing, and he looked up at her.

"Thanks," he whispered, grateful for Jo's gentle distractions as the nurse removed the dressings on his arm.

Jo and the nurse held a conversation above Zain's head. He tried to tune in, but the pain from his arm kept getting in the way.

"Zain, we have to clean this wound thoroughly. It's infected."

He looked up at the nurse, hearing her speak but not fully comprehending. "I'm going to give you something for the pain." Her voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. He nodded, even as he didn't grasp her words.

Then he felt the prick of a needle in the back of his hand, and he began to drift.

...ooo0ooo...

Zain woke slowly. His head felt stuffed, his throat dry. The pain in his side had reduced to a slight twinge, but his arm felt like a giant was driving a corkscrew through it. Reluctantly he peeled open an eyelid and tried to get a handle on the situation.

His right arm had been cleaned and dressed, then immobilised against his body with a sling. There was a hospital tag bracelet with his name on his left wrist, so he assumed he'd been admitted, even though he was somewhat hazy on that part.

_Stu? _He looked across to the other bed, where his partner lay. The quiet, steady beep of the machines monitoring Stuart's vital signs was reassuring, and Zain found he welcomed that reassurance.

Stu was asleep, and as much as Zain wanted to call out to him and wake him, he knew his partner needed the rest. The first bullet had clipped his shoulder, deflected upwards and had lodged by his collarbone; the second, the one that had also clipped Zain's side, had torn a shallow track deflected by Stu's ribcage, had punched an even shallower track over Zain's ribs and buried itself in the wall. The third shot had been wildly off, slicing a deep furrow in Zain's arm as he pulled Stu close to try and stem the bleeding.

They were alone, so Zain guessed that Jo was away on duty. He eased carefully onto his side so he could watch his partner. He had some figuring out to do.

_Three poor and panicked shots that could have ended their lives, but hadn't._

_A second chance at life. And a chance at love?_

He had never thought of himself as gay, nor Stuart for that matter. Now it wasn't the thought of impending death; making love with Stu had just felt right. Then there came Stu's instantaneous decision to shield Zain with his body, the sound of gunfire, the feeling of sheer terror as Zain had tried to stem the bleeding from Stuart's wounds, barely aware of his own.

But it had started before that. Almost the first time they'd kissed, faking it for the benefit of the others, it had felt so real. He found himself giving more and more, opening himself up to Stuart's touch. They may have been playing Av and Jack, but in his head they were Zain and Stu. He hoped Stu felt the same.

He dozed a while, his arm aching, his mind playing little dream films in his head as he recalled precious moments.

He wanted to sit with Stu, be there by his side when Stu woke up. Zain sat up slowly. His arm throbbed, and the pain ratcheted up a notch or two. Zain breathed deeply through his nose trying to control it, then lifted the bedclothes to swing his legs out of bed.

As he moved to try and stand upright the crushing pain in his arm intensified and Zain bent over, as a white light swamped his vision.

"ZAIN!" Hands grabbed his undamaged shoulder, pushing him firmly back onto the bed "What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" Jo scolded as she supported him.

Zain was too busy trying to deal with the backwash of nausea that hit him as he tried to stand. Dimly aware that Jo was pushing him back into bed, pulling the bedclothes up over him, quietly scolding him for giving her a fright.

"Hey."

Zain's stomach was still doing back-flips, but he opened his eyes, Stu was attempting to sit up.

"STUART!" Jo snapped irritably. "Enough. You've been shot, lie still." She actually looked a little tearful, and Zain subsided into the pillows without an argument.

Zain's arm hurt like hell, he felt queasy and light headed, but his partner was awake and alive, and on the mend enough to be thinking about sitting up. The relief was overwhelming.

"You two will be the death of me." Jo even sounded a little tearful, and Zain had the grace to feel guilty for upsetting her. The one personal thing that Stu had talked about when they were alone together, was his friendship with Jo. Seeing her in action close up, Zain understood.


	3. Chapter 3

Jo moved the soup pan on to the back burner and checked the hotpot. She had originally planned to take Stu in until he was fully recovered. But it seemed as if Stu and Zain came as a pair these days, so she could hardly have left Zain out.

Jo smiled to herself. The hospital hadn't been particularly pleased to let Zain go, he still wasn't recovered from the infection, but he'd stubbornly signed himself out anyway. He didn't want to be too separated from Stu.

Watching them together, she realised that the relationship was real. Tentative, very new, they were feeling their way slowly, but it was clear to her that they loved each other.

"Smells good!" Stu moved up behind her and gently put his left arm around her.

"You have physio tomorrow." They were working on getting a full range of movement back in his right arm.

"Yes mum."

Jo turned the soup down to simmer, and turned round, putting her arms around him. Giving him a gentle squeeze.

"You scared me half to death."

"I know." He looked down at the floor for a second. "I was pretty terrified myself."

"You saved Zain's life, and risked your own." Jo's voice trembled, "I don't know whether to be furious with you or incredibly proud."

His right arm came round her waist, the movement slow and stiff, and he hugged her to him. "I don't mind if it's both." He whispered.

She hugged him closer again, feeling a little teary. "Where's Zain?"

"Asleep on your couch."

"Lunch is nearly ready, and I need to check on him."

"I know." Stu's voice was even but his eyes were worried.

Jo gave a final check to her timings and headed to her bathroom cabinet. The only way the hospital would release Zain was with a promise to return him immediately if his temperature went up a couple of degrees.

She retrieved her thermometer and returned to the living room.

Zain was dozing on the sofa, he didn't look well, his cheeks were flushed, and his skin had a greyish tinge to it. Her instinct was to wake him, wrap him in the duvet that he was clinging to and take him back to hospital.

She laid the back of her hand on Zain's forehead, _not good_, his skin was hot.

"How is he?" Jo could hear the anxiety in Stu's voice.

"Not very good, Stu." She laid the forehead thermometer against Zain's forehead and watched each little coloured box light up. "His temperature's 101..." She trailed off.

Zain's temperature was hovering around the point at which they had agreed he had to go back to hospital. Jo looked at both of them, Stu kneeling next to the couch, gently stroking Zain's hair, the look in Zain's eyes as he concentrated on his lover. They were so wrapped up in each other, she really didn't have the heart to separate them.

She served up lunch, Stu tucked in, but Zain barely picked at his, until Stu sat down next to him, took the bowl out of his hand, and helped him. Zain seemed content to let him. Which was unlike the very proud and private young officer.

But then this wasn't exactly Stu's modus operandi either. His relationship with Zain seemed to have brought out his tender, protective side.

After dinner, Jo cleared the dishes and left them together. When she returned, Stu was stretched out next to Zain, who was leaning against his partner. Zain's infected arm resting across Stu's body, huddled together as though they never wanted to let go.

Jo gently eased the duvet out of Zain's loose grasp, and covered them both with it.

Zain rested his hot, aching, head against his lover's shoulder and closed his eyes, barely noticing when Jo covered them with his quilt. His arm felt tight and sore, and was throbbing in time with his headache.

Stu held Zain close. His own arm and shoulder ached dully, holding Zain's weight in his arms was a little painful, but letting go of his sick lover wasn't going to happen. Zain's need was greater than his.

If he put aside his own aches and pains, and thought about it, Stuart still could not have said when this feeling first came over him. As they played the part of lovers, everything that he and Zain did seemed to reinforce that feeling.

Love.

A word that, until he had first kissed Zain Nadir, Stuart Turner would have said he understood and rejected. After their first kiss, he realised he had barely had a nodding acquaintance with the word.

Love. He, Stuart Turner, loved somebody. And that somebody was not a polite lady with a degree and a high-flying career a few years older than himself. The somebody that made his heart beat faster was Zain Nadir.

He had never even considered the possibility that he could find happiness with a man.

Until Zain.

Zain whimpered in pain and Stu dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Hey." He whispered.

"Hurts." Zain muttered thickly.

Very carefully Stu laid his hand on Zain's arm. Heat radiated from the wound, and it was very swollen. Even the lightest touch over the infection site made Zain wince, and bite his lower lip in an effort not to cry out.

Stu looked down at his lover. Zain's eyes were screwed shut, his lashes sticking together in clumps, traces of tears on his cheeks, clearly trying to tough it out.

"I think we had better take you back to St. Hugh's."

Zain tried to say no, but his arm hurt too badly. Silently he nodded.

Jo drove, Stuart sat in the back with his wilting lover cradled in his arms and tried not to shift about too much.

They arrived at St. Hugh's and Zain was swiftly admitted. Jo stood with her arm around her best friend and waited. She could feel Stuart's fear and stress.

Finally they were allowed in to see him. Stu moved into the visitor's chair and took Zain's free hand in his.

Vulnerable was not a word that Jo would have associated with either man. But Zain looked desperately ill, and Stu terrified. Zain was as white is the sheets he was lying on, alarmingly lethargic and Jo was genuinely scared for both of them.


End file.
